


Ruby

by BleuWaters



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy, cap smells good, date night!, fifties throwback party, thismaysoundweirdbutigaveathoroughscentheadcanon, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 04:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12204234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuWaters/pseuds/BleuWaters
Summary: Steve Rogers x reader. It's date night, and to have some fun, the two of you go to a fifties party. Short but sweet.





	Ruby

A very handsome man wearing a old-fashioned military uniform rings your doorbell and, a moment later, you answer the door.

“Hi, Steve!” you say brightly, a wide smile gracing lips painted red. You close the door to your house behind you and slide your hand into his.

“Hi,” he replies, and you feel his hand, large and warm and calloused, close firmly around yours. It's a comforting feeling, and you smile because of it, a happy little smile that's more of a secret than an actual grin. “You look...really great.”

“Oh, thank you,” you murmur, looking down at your beautiful dress. It's white with red polka dots. It has a sweetheart neckline, a satin halter strap, and a wide red bow tied snugly around your middle. You wear cute red pumps and your hair in a swooping fifties style. You feel as great as Steve sees you. “You do, too.”

“What, in this old thing?” Steve grins, but nerves make the expression deflate quickly. You catch his blue gaze very briefly before it falls to the sidewalk. “I'm more of a forties guy, myself.”

“Don't I know it?” you muse, going quiet in the dark evening, your heels the only sound in the air apart from the odd cricket. Every other step, your hip bumps his and, seeing how distracting and inelegant it is, you shift ever-so-slightly so it doesn't bump, it just brushes. The silky material of your dress swishes luxuriously against your smooth calves, and you realize with an inward start that the captain’s thumb is absently stroking over your knuckles. You don't react for fear he'll stop, but you feel your cheeks heat pleasantly.

The two of you reach the dance hall where the fifties party is being held, and the music that seeps out the open windows is upbeat and totally danceable. Laughter and cheerful whoops sound here and there, and you grin up at Steve, your pace quickening with your excitement.

The moment you step inside, the pair of you are offered little cups of non-alcoholic punch with a half-slice of orange in each. You take a sip of yours, decide very quickly that you don't really care for it, and set it down on a nearby counter to be swiftly forgotten. Smiling, you pull Steve toward the checkered dance floor. He downs his drink in one fell swoop, places the plastic cup beside yours, and follows, returning the smile, albeit bashfully.

Dancing has always been a passing interest to you, but YouTube videos gave you the lift you needed to dance the historic swings, and with every other couple letting loose, you allow yourself the freedom to go all out.

Steve proves a quick study and catches up to the other couples easily, spinning you around as his discomfort dies out.

With a shocked, but truly delighted yelp from his date, he sweeps you off your feet and tosses you a foot skyward. Easily, he catches you and holds you tight, your stomach pressed firmly to his chest. You start giggling gleefully and you slide your fingers into his hair, both of you shaking with laughter muted by the music. He lowers you to the ground as a new song begins, and you both quiet, the giggles falling away as you realize how close you are.

Steve’s breath smells like cinnamon gum, you realize, and a small smile surfaces as he catches his breath. Your hands slide down his chest and you look away, a similar expression flooding your features, a faint, breathless, giddy huff of laughter escaping against the forest green of his uniform.

The new song is slow and sweetly sung by Johnny Mathis, called ‘Chances Are’. You slide your left arm around Steve's shoulder and press your right hand into his left. You take in a filling breath when his right hand splays against your back and holds you tightly, and he holds your hand close to his heart. Your temple touches his jaw, and you feel a soft sigh ruffle your hair.

The captain smells of classic aftershave, with the barest traces of cinnamon from the punch, and a more modern waft of soapy men’s shampoo. There's some gel in his hair, which smells sweet, almost like vanilla, and he wears the original Old Spice deodorant. You smile softly, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as the two of you sway to the music.

Steve knits his brow thoughtfully, the tip of his nose brushing a wave in your neat hair. Time seems to slow as the melody of the song swoops across the dance floor. His grip tightens fractionally and it feels blissfully protective to be so carefully held.

The night is a playful, romantic one, and by the time you reach your doorstep, you feel light-headed with adoration for the shy young man you've spent two months courting.

“That was really fun,” you say happily, and Steve nods in agreement, “I had a great time.”

“Yeah, me too,” he says. It's a quiet, nearly awkward, long moment before he steps forward. A feather-light kiss is pressed to your red lips, and the man gives a faint nod as he steps away. “G’night,” he mumurs.

“Good night.” Your words are barely a breath in the cool night air, and your fingertips brush over the velvety lipstick you wear. His touch wasn't even firm enough to leave a shadow of color on his lips and, yet, it's etched so solidly into your mind that you know you'll never forget it.

**Author's Note:**

> >w< I hope you liked it! Please leave kudos and comments. <3


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